Page 24 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

"I know. I looked up your schedule." The admission comes quietly.

"You did?"

She nods, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "It's approximately a two-hour flight from Charleston to Oklahoma City, then another hour and forty-five minutes to Norman by car."

I can't help but smile. "You've got it all calculated out, huh?"

"Force of habit. I analyze data for a living."

"So, what does your data tell you about... this?" I gesture vaguely between us.

She hesitates. "The data is... inconclusive. Long-distance relationships have a 58% failure rate within the first four months."

"Those aren't great odds."

"No," she agrees. "They're not."

We fall silent again as the airport comes into view and then the departures terminal. I pull up to the curb, shifting into park and sitting there.

"Well," I finally say, "guess this is it."

Harmony nods, her hands folded in her lap. "I should go. Security might be busy."

Neither of us moves.

"Harmony, I—" I start, just as she says, "Dakota—"

We both stop, sharing a small, tense laugh.

"You first," I tell her.

She takes a deep breath. "I don't do casual. I never have. My job requires precision, planning, certainty. But with you..." She shakes her head. "With you, I can't predict anything. That both terrifies me and thrills me."

My heart hammers against my ribs. "Is that good or bad?"

"I don't know," she admits. "I do know I don't want to walk away without acknowledging that this past week meant something to me."

I reach across the console, taking her hand in mine. It's smaller than mine, but strong and capable. The hand of a woman who knows exactly who she is and what she wants.

"They meant something to me too," I say, the words falling from my lips before I can stop them. "More than I expected."

She squeezes my hand, a tentative smile on her face. "So where does that leave us?"

I want to have an answer, want to be the confident, cocky Dakota Miles with all the right moves. Yet sitting here, I'm just a guy afraid of losing something before I've even figured out what it is.

"I don't know," I admit. "I've never been great at the whole relationship thing."

"Neither have I," she confesses. "Too busy chasing storms."

I smile slightly. "And I've been too busy running from them."

The airport buzzes with activity around us, people coming and going, saying hellos and goodbyes. A family laughs nearby, loading suitcases onto a cart. A businessman hurries past, talking urgently on his phone.

"I should go," Harmony says again, but her hand stays in mine.

"Yeah."

Still, neither of us moves.

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